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There is something in us that likes to assess blame. We like answers. We want conclusion. Mel Gibson's movie, The Passion of the Christ, raised the issue concerning the crucifixion of Jesus. Some who saw the film thought Mel's answer was that the Jews killed Jesus. Thus, the complaint began that the film was anti-semitic. In a sense, the charge is legitimate -- after all, Gibson says that the major source for the script is the gospel accounts themselves, and the truth is that the gospels can also legitimately be charged with being anti-Jewish.

The truth is that most Jews of Jesus' day had never heard of him and could have cared less whether he lived or died. Some knew of him and became followers. Some knew of him and became concerned, the most notable being the leaders of the temple. They were afraid this rabble-rousing rabbi who went around talking about the "kingdom of God" was going to rouse the wrath of the empire of Caesar, or at least Caesar's handpicked governor, Pontius Pilate. After all, Pilate was immensely powerful, with even the high priest only serving at the governor's pleasure. To get on his bad side would have been most hazardous, not only to career, but probably to health as well.

It was Passover time in Judea, and a mob from all over the known world would be assembling in Jerusalem. It has been described as Times Square on New Year's Eve, but for two-and-a-half straight weeks and without sanitation. Pilate had come to Jerusalem from his normal residence in a palace by the sea. He only came up at Passover time because there was such an opportunity for civil unrest and he needed to be ready. There had previously been a Passover riot that he had had to put down with a massacre (Luke 13:1). Pilate would not have been a happy camper.

The Jewish leaders had come to Pilate with this one they said was a danger. And to their credit, they genuinely believed it. Here was a man who attracted large crowds; he had made a wreck of the temple courtyards, turning over the tables of the moneychangers and sellers of sacrificial animals, all of whom had their jobs by being related to these same leaders. This "kingdom of God" talk was politically dangerous. The high priest was the one whom Pilate would hold responsible for any civil disorder, especially at Passover. This was enlightened self-interest; that is why Caiaphas would say privately, "it is better ... that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish" (John 11:50).

Ultimately, the decision was Pilate's. Mel Gibson's film presented the governor as something of a philosophical humanitarian, which is based on only the tiniest passing references in scripture. The Apostles' Creed gets it right when it states that Jesus "suffered under Pontius Pilate." Pilate was boss; he wielded absolute authority in Judea. The Roman legion, the army of occupation, answered directly to him; and that meant so did everyone else. Crucify Jesus? No big deal. That was a punishment routinely handed out to troublemakers. Who knows how many others suffered that fate under Pilate? He was a brutal tyrant who had no moral qualms about executing anyone he perceived to be a threat.

So why do the gospels treat the man relatively gently? It has to do with something that occurred, not at the time of Jesus' death, but rather something almost forty years later. In the year 70 AD -- just before the three gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke were written, and a decade or two before John -- the Roman general, Titus, marched his legions through Jerusalem, massacred tens of thousands of Jews, burned most of the city, and pulled down the temple, stone by stone. It was Jerusalem's 9/11, a first-century holocaust. No wonder the gospel writers were not anxious to assess blame on Rome; that might have been the end of them.

So how do we choose the winner of this "blame game"? First, we can say that the Jews as a people did not do it, despite what certain passages in the gospels, taken out of context, could lead us to believe. Was it the high priests? Not really. They lacked the authority. Pilate? He would appear most culpable.

But for us, on this holy day, as we recall the horrific events of Calvary, we look at the total witness of scripture and are forced to say, "I did -- I killed Jesus!" We hear again the witness of the prophet Isaiah thundering over the centuries before, "he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all."

We can debate Mel Gibson over the way he made The Passion of the Christ, but in one respect he had the right idea. Do you know whose hand portrays the Roman soldier pounding the nails into Jesus' flesh? Mel Gibson's. Any extra could have played that role, but Gibson chose to do it himself. Ask him the question then, who killed Jesus? Ask me. Ask yourself.

"I did. I killed Jesus."